Rogue Flock
by Please Delete No Longer In Use
Summary: After his defeat at the hands of Squall and his allies, Seifer Almasy is a confused young man. Aimlessly wandering the lands in an attempt to find himself, he comes across a sect of rogue SeeD soldiers. Will he take the chance to gain revenge?


**Chapter One: A Wanderer's Refuge**

The harsh wind whipped across the desert, tearing up the sand and hurling it to and fro upon the tormented landscape. The night sky flashed with terror and trembled as thunder struck out at the heavens with a resounding _boom_. Amidst nature's chaos, a lone figure, shrouded in a protective robe and goggles, stumbled forward, one gloved hand clutching the hilt of his sheathed blade and the other pinching the cloak together in muted desperation. He was Seifer Almasy, wielder of the Revolver and former student of Balamb Garden. Somehow, that name meant little to him in his current state; a location he had once called 'home' was now little more than a ripple in the pool of vengeance he had vowed to empty.

And yet, he found himself striding aimlessly through the desert, waging war with nature itself as the storm raged about him.

Wearily, he slumped down and sheltered himself behind a relatively large boulder, curling his battered form against it as a source of protection. Ah, how far he had fallen, seeking out a mere rock as a means of fortification. The velvet curtain of night had coated all of his surroundings, rendering him blind and leaving him with only option – to settle down for the night, and wait until morning. A sigh escaped his pursed lips as he reclined, somewhat stiffly, onto the block of stone. His damned life – he was cursed, to be sure! He often pondered such a possibility; had Ultimecia betrayed him before her death? Had he paid the price for aiding such a devilish being? Shuddering as memories rushed back to him and flooded his consciousness, he allowed his eyes to flutter closed. He may as well rest for a while; there was no certainty that such an opportunity would arise again anytime soon.

It could have been an hour that he was claimed by a peaceful slumber, or a day. The only thing that occurred to him when he woke was the blinding golden light that was swallowing him up.

"Traveller! We can see that you are in need of assistance!" a bold voice boomed over a speakerphone. "Please prepare to be lifted into our vehicle and transported to the nearest town for medical attention!"

Seifer dazedly curled his gloved digits around the suspended coil of rope, and gripped it tightly as he ascended. Scrambling into the airship's cockpit, he swiftly assessed the situation. Two pilots were seated at the forefront of the cabin, their expert hands working the controls with ease. Another pair were before him, one operating the harness, and the other distinguished as a doctor of some sort by a white coat and a marked kit (the contents of which were scattered across the metallic flooring). Only a small rescue crew, he supposed…a small SeeD rescue crew. The telltale insignia was imprinted upon each of their backs, emblazoned upon their protective headgear, blaring outwards from the ceiling…_damn_.

"Sir? Are you okay?" the doctor asked, approaching slowly and pulling a small pair of plastic gloves over his hands.

Seifer cursed inwardly. If he removed his goggles, they may recognise him and react harshly. But what were they doing in this region, anyway? "Fine, thanks to you. Just a little dazed." His throat was hoarse; he had to be hospitable to his 'hosts' for the time being. Suppressing his fury was difficult, but manageable. A substantial amount had been wiped away from Edea and Ultimecia, but a generous portion still remained. It was a part of himself that he despised with every fibre of his being.

The doctor nodded, smiling warmly. "Understandable. It's the worst storm we've seen out here in years."

"You guys are SeeD, aren't you?" Seifer enquired, folding his arms across his chest and drawing his cloak around him. "What are you doin' out here?" Then, realising his tone may have been interpreted as confrontational, he added, "I'm glad that you are, of course, but still…"

"The local emergency services hired us for a couple of months. It can get a little tough for small towns to cope, you know?"

Seifer nodded, his hand moving appraisingly over his gunblade. "I know."

"Interesting weapon you've got there." The male gazed at the battered hilt of the Revolver. "Mind if I take a look? I'm somewhat of a…weapon connoisseur."

Seifer didn't have time to answer. The airship trembled violently, sending the doctor's kit skittering across the deck and tossing it to the winds. Bursts of gunfire lashed out at the hull. Cries of fury-laced satisfaction could be heard from below. Seifer snapped to his feet. But a few moments ago, he had been resting; now he found himself being thrust into a SeeD rescue craft that was abruptly coming under fire from unknown assailants.

"We're under attack!" one of the pilots barked. "Everyone, get to your stations!"

A hook sailed in through the hatch, latching onto the doctor and lodging itself in his chest. He was instantly drawn out of the aircraft, a crimson liquid dappling Seifer's cloak in his wake. The winch operator swore violently, leaping back as another grapple locked into door's seam. A moment later, he too was gone, replaced by a slender female figure. Seifer studied her in silent awe – her curved form, her elegant movements, the gleaming emerald battle armour that coated her body. It began at her chest, morphing upwards into a black-plated helmet, and down into leg coverings. Only her arms were bare, the only form of clothing a pair of tight-fitting gloves clutching at her hands. A crossbow was strapped to her back, and two pistols were dangling from a loose belt at her waist.

"Who the hell are you?" she demanded, directing the comment at Seifer himself.

"Distress call sent!" the second pilot exclaimed. The girl had hammered a single bullet into his chest before he could do any more.

Seifer, slightly dazed from the sheer speed of the incident, drew his gunblade in a swift, fluid movement, settling into a defensive poise. She was already moving, though, darting across the cabin, her finger squeezing the trigger with ease. The remaining pilot dove away from the barrage, but Seifer drove his blade before it. The bullets ricocheted from the blade, and she paused.

"You're better than we expected," she murmured. "Nice sword, by the way." She released her grip on the guns, allowing them to slide back into their rightful places at her hip, and dashed towards Seifer. He brought the Revolver around in a wide arc, but she ducked beneath it and her booted foot connected with his hand; with a hiss, the weapon clattered away from his grasp and she was atop him, one gloved fist repeatedly impacting upon his cheek. He twisted and leapt, spinning himself away from her and swiping at his blade. He brought it up before him, breathing hard, his heart pounding inside his chest. His opponent did not even seem to be out of breath, and, somehow, the second pilot was slumped lifelessly in his chair. He was on his own, and the airship was already beginning to spiral out of control.

"Why are you doing this?" he questioned. "It doesn't matter – I'm still gonna gut you." He launched himself forward, the revolver arcing gracefully downwards…and the girl dodged, the blade buried itself in the control panel, and electricity jarred through Seifer's body.

"Sweet dreams," the female quipped, and was gone.

Seifer, resorting to the last of his strength, released the gunblade, falling back with the airship as it plunged into the desert. Flames danced around him, a deafening roar split his ears…

…and, then…

**BLACK.**

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A/N: Remember to read and review! This chapter is fast-moving and confusing, I know - but hopefully enough to keep you reading.


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